And They Call It Rock'N'Roll
by B42-BT
Summary: WIP BANDFIC.Drugs, language, alcohol, abuse, rock bands. Life is crazy, love is insane, and--by comparison--riding in cars with manic boys is pretty mundane. When topsyturvy is what you make of everything, all you can do is hang on for the ride. YAOI, etc
1. Notes

This fic will contain things that aren't for certain people (drugs, alcohol, launguage, sexual matter, etc). I'll certainly try to give you warnings in the beginning, but I don't certainly guarantee anything.

If you're expecting severly thought-out plot, don't read this. It's a WIP, I told you;; I've only worked it out just so far at the moment. But if you're the type who likes to watch the story grow, then, go for it?

This will probably not get too far. I always abandon chapter fics _very_ frequently. Do not get too attached.

Pretty much all things you don't recognize will be mine. If in doubt, ask!

As you will probably be able tell with Marik in the first chapter—or maybe you can't?—I've modified characters some. Okay, a lot. Be prepared, I say.

Almost every pairing that will be in this fic will be yaoi/shounen-ai (probably with yuri/shojou-ai, if I feel like it). This does not mean that there won't be het pairings, but they will more than not be sideline flings, etc. Sorry?

Unless otherwise stated, I own nothing. Well, I disclaim, I disclaim, I disclaim!

This will be a band-and-life fic, for the most part (but that's not to say there won't be more).

This is meant to have, like, a bajillion chapters. The first few or so are meant to introduce you to the characters;; I hope you can stand it?

IT'S IMPORTANT THAT YOU LOOK FOR HINTS TO THEIR PERSONALITIES, ETC, IN THEIR INTRODUCTORY CHAPTERS. I will drop little things in there that you are meant to interpret, if you want to figure things out beforehand, instead of just reading the stuff to find out.

If you have any other questions, just ask!

Current Working Summary: Life is crazy, love is insane, and--by comparison--riding in cars with manic boys is pretty mundane. When topsyturvy is what you make of everything, all you can do is hang on for the ride.


	2. The Sun

Note: This will be the Jou-centric chapter that tries to show you how Jou started getting the idea of moving to America ((but not yet why he took everyone with him, oops)). Sorry if it didn't come out quite right. It was a very old chapter that I tried to revise.

4/25/08  
Chapter One  
The Sun

A light drizzle fell upon a far-off, sleepy town--unexpected, of course. Wiping away the drooping bangs that clung to his face, Jonouchi Katsuya thinks they should hire new staff at the weather station.

'_Of all the days for me to have _not_ brought an umbrella_…' He brought his fingers to his busted lip and bit his nail, a bad habit he'd had for years. Like so many others, he succumbed to it without question. After noticing a foreign taste on his tongue, he drew his hand back to examine his nails and raw knuckles before letting his arms fall. The blond sighed and used his thumb to try to dig out the dirt he'd just tasted.

From the very beginning of two months ago, he knew night classes would be a bad idea. Not only was it so dark by the time the students were let out that Jou couldn't see, but it was all the way across town. The streets being spattered with fellow punks, these circumstances meant ass-kicking and sometimes getting ass-kicked. Frequently.

Taking a deep breath, he smelled the steam of hot asphalt cooling in the rain and trekked on. Seeing neon pink, purple, blue, and green light ahead, he became aware that he was reaching Charlie's sooner than he'd thought. So as not to get bowled over by drunken teenagers pouring in and out of the facility, he stayed to the sidewalk and crossed the street. Being uplifted by the realization of the shorter distance between him and home, he began humming, singing to himself in his head.

'_There may not be another way to your heart, so I guess I'd better find a new way in_…'

He heard a car horn followed by a light screech, stopped walking, and turned. Spotting a black and cherry-red '95 Comaro, he slightly waved and mustered a smile, walking over to the driver's side.

"Oi! Inu! What the fuck are you doing out this late? Don't you have a curfew?"

"The_ 'Lord _of _Science'_ kept me an extra half-hour for a 'pep talk." He smirked and whacked the head of long silver hair that belonged to his fellow lead singer. "What are _you two_ doin' _here_, anyway?"

He nodded in greeting to the passenger, who had removed his sunglasses.

"You make it sound like it's illegal for us to be here!" the driver replied defensively and snickered, only to get hit by the other occupant of the car. "Mou!"

While the albino was rubbing the pump knot, deep violet eyes, now unhindered by the Stunner shades, sparkled in the light from the pub across the street. "We're going down to the Bay Nightstrip line, then heading to the shore and Dead-Man's Hill. Going our way?"

Katsuya was silent for a moment while he pondered the invitation. Apparently he was silent a bit too long for someone's liking, because he got a series of pokes on his forehead.

"Jouuuu! Hey, buddy? Oh, my God, he's dead!" The driver's joking only earned him another blow to the head. "Damnit, what is this, Give-Ayeaiko-Owies Night?!"

Jonouchi rose up from leaning on the car's door. "_You_," he pointed to the boy, "got a _very_ sucky sense a' humor."

The blond in the car opened the dashboard, dug out a red scrunchie, and put his hair in a low ponytail while glancing at the clock. "Jou, if you don't get back to Seto's now, he'll throw a fit _and_ a search party."

Said boy uttered a noise of recognition and jerked out his Nokia, wandering around the car to get good signal. He found a spot eight feet from the left headlight, then hit speed dial. Turning and looking back at the vehicle, he waited for the ringer to begin.

"Hello?" came the slightly less cold reply from the other end. Jou figured that if they didn't have caller ID, the CEO would've snapped at someone phoning at two a.m.—even though the man wouldn't have been sleeping.

"Set', I'm takin' off with Aya and Marik for tanight. I'll be back 'round five today. Err…tomorrow? Whatever."

"What? What do you mean, 'taking off'? I can't wait around all day for you to get back—I have places to go!"

"Kaiba, one: 'takin' off' as in pubbin', prob'ly. Two, not that ya would, but ya don't have to wait up; I got a _key_. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somethin' to do that I actually care about doin'." He pulled the cellular away from his ear and the last thing he heard was a faint protest before he angrily pressed the 'talk' button. He crammed the phone back in his pocket and walked back over to the car.

"Let's go." Jumping in the backseat through one of the open windows, he let the T-top open and buckled himself in.

"All righty, then!" Ayeaiko yelled and stomped the gas pedal, a livid expression in his eyes. Marik laughed and started tying his folded red bandana around his head. Jonouchi felt the air from all the open windows lash at his face and arched his back to reach into his pocket for his wallet. Avoiding seeing the picture inside, he checked the largest pouch and noticed he had just enough money for the stops they'd more-than-likely be making. Up front, Marik had just adjusted the rearview toward the back seat.

"Oi, Inu."

"Huh?"

"What cha' thinkin' about?" the Egyptian chimed. While he fiddled with the laces on his boots, he gave the blond in back a skeptical look through the fringe of his bangs.

"Nothin'…" the drummer mumbled and looked out the window, his hair and clothes whipping a little in the wind. Marik glanced past the driver's leather-covered arms towards the speedometer, looked back at Jou, again at the speedometer, and finished with his shoes. He frowned and said nothing more.

* * *

They had gone by so many things and still didn't stop. Everything flew by, only being seen long enough to be recognized. Miles and miles had gone by without him noticing, even though, way back in his bright-blond head, he knew he wouldn't have cared anyway.

"So, why's he bein' so controlling all of a sudden, inu?"

In the backseat, both Jonouchi's legs jerkily twitched at the sudden speech, and his eyes wavered from their staring stupor before focusing again. He forced the heels of his palms into the seat to swing himself up straight, pressing all of his back against the red cloth behind him. Marik watched in the rearview as the other blonde thumped his feet against either side of the bump in the floorboard behind the console, let them rest there, and laced his fingers together, arms loose and hands now lax in the empty space between his lap.

"I dunno."

"Really?" the Egyptian spat softly, propping his left foot on the dashboard and throwing his elbow over his knee as he slumped against the door. With his peripheral vision, he noticed that bright blonde head of hair turn towards the right and, as brown eyes searched the door's mirror for his visage, Marik ran his right hand through his hair, covering the side of his face. '_Not quite that easy, Inu..._'

"Yeahh..." Jou drew out the word with a suspicious tone, his view of the tanned face of the shotgun passenger still blocked by an identically tanned hand. "Why you hidin', Mar?"

He smirked in a sad, knowing, yet cocky way, his answer droning and uncomfortable. Jou quickly caught this expression via the rearview. "No reason."

In the back seat, the blond's breath stuck hard in his chest right as Marik moved his head completely out of view of the side mirror. The tendons in his hands became sore, his fingers desperately trying to twitch his hand into a fist. He began gently bouncing his leg and sunk into the seat again, almost choking on the deep, even breath he could finally take. He tried to calm his nerves, forget the look of "told-you-so" on Marik's face. Words drifted through his head liltingly and he forced his sight to go out of focus again. He put a beat to the words and sang to himself in his head. '_One, two, threefour, five. Everybody in the car, so, come one, let's drive to a liquor store..._'

Sensing that everyone in the car was now in a solemn mood, Ayeaiko grumbled, squeezed the steering wheel tighter, and took a left at a road sign that read "Beach 13 miles next right." Soon the scenery changed from vast expanses of brick to forest, the road very slightly less smooth. Eventually, the air smelled so thickly of salt that Jou could taste it. It was beginning to get a little humid, and the soft bumps in the road and warmth of the salty air lulled him into lying across the back seat and dozing off a bit at a time.

_  
After school, walkin' home, fresh dirt under my fingernails_  
_and I can smell hot asphalt.  
Cars screech to a halt to let me pass.  
And I cannot remember what life was like through photographs trying to recreate images life gives us from our past.  
And sometimes it's a sad song, but I cannot forget, refuse to regret.  
I'm so glad I met you.  
You take my breath away, make every day worth all of the pain that I've gone through.  
And, Mama, I've been crying 'cause things aren't how they used to be.  
She said, "The battle's almost won. And we're only several miles from the sun."_

Note: Ayeaiko is my original character (there will be more of them later, also, just so you know;; but ygo characters will be main, don't worry). Steal and fucking suffer until you kill yourself. ;) Name pronounced "eye-A-co." "Co" being said like "coa" in coacoa.  
Also, no, damnit, Seto's not going to be _all_ bad. XD I actually make him kind of hyper-ish, as you'll later see. (I'm stating this for all fans of Seto who think I'll make him a terrible person--or those who want to be warned about what kind of person I AM going to make him.)


	3. MakeDamnSure

Note: This chapter will be the introspective into Malik's (and partly Yugi's and Otogi's, perhaps?) general way of life for this part of the fic.  
This chapter is set a bit far after the first. **This chapter is set after they move to America**. Now, until otherwise stated, the chapter content is occurring at the same time, etc, etc. But watch for time warnings!

4/28/07  
Chapter Two  
MakeDamnSure

"Ugh…damnit…" the groan echoed through the freezing room, bounced off tile and plexiglass, reverberated through the air vent. "Son of a bitch…"

Malik opened his eyes widely and let out a huff. "_God_. Whut the Hell…Man…"

Drawing up an arm, he placed his palm on the chilly floor and pushed himself to roll over. He lay there with his eyes closed for a moment, listening to the hum of cool air being pumped through the vent by his feet. Violet eyes opened and stared blankly at the square, ticking clock on the wall. He noticed how there was a distance of about three and a sixth of an inch between the face and the wall. He traced with his eyes the pattern of wavy squares, like strange roofing tiles, covering the clocks front. He started at a corner of the piece and, with every tick, began counting the wall tiles, one by one. He looked anywhere but at the chrome arms, dragging and clicking their way around numbers. Anywhere but at the tell-tale time.

He sighed slowly and began to pull himself up. Laying there however long he had been had caused his legs to stiffen and yet become jell-o. He backed up a bit and sat himself down on the side of the tub, knocking over a shampoo bottle in the process. Not caring, he put his legs straight in front of him, bending them back and forth. Blonde and lavender hair fell from behind his ears as he bent to rub at his calves.

From the door, there was a groggy, "Wah the Hell?" He looked up, still massaging his leg through his black denim jeans.

"Go sleep, Yug'." The boy shuffled off, tri-colored head nodding in sleep.

Malik finally managed to draw himself onto his feet, standing steady. He placed a hand on the granite sink next to him and tipped forward on one foot to retrieve his fallen hoodie. He yanked the gray jacket over his head on his way out of the bathroom, and made sure to step over his soppy mess from the night before.

Seeing his stomach lying on the floor like that really just made him sick.

* * *

"_What day is it, and in what month? This clock never seemed so alive…_"

Chords faded through the speakers and a small buzzing indicated the CD stopping. There was a loud clunk followed by whirring as another disc was loaded.

"Who the Hell listens to that shit, man?" Malik struck his lighter with the calloused side of a thumb, using the ignition to flare the cigarette on his lips. He walked over to the bookshelf on the far side of the room, scuffling his feet in the carpet. He crouched and his eyes skipped over the many books and manga to see the various compact disc cases. Letting his finger run over slick, sometimes dusty plastic, he scanned for a title.

"Apparently you. It's your mix CD."

"Hmmm…really?" he let his mouth hang open slightly after speaking. His finger caught the top edge of a case and it tumbled into his hand. A snarky laugh came from the sofa across the room. He drew down three more cases just as Otogi pushed the wheeled seat away from his desk. While the chair rolled away with him, the raven-haired boy snapped his laptop shut. He drew his right leg to his chest, locked his hands together at the base of his foot, and stared at Malik

After flipping over all the cases and reading their backs, the Egyptian made a face and kept only one. He stood up and stretched his legs before piddling through rows of sunglasses on a hanger nearby. Why couldn't this boy develop some taste?

Sighing, he picked up a pair of thick-rimmed sport glasses. He slid them up the bridge of his nose and wiggled his feet to make his shoes more comfortable. As he was turning to walk out the door and pulling his hoodie down further, Otogi suddenly spoke.

"Are you doing okay?"

The blonde paused in the threshold, putting a hand on either side of the doorframe, cigarette balanced between index and middle finger. He leaned forward slightly and his hair fell over his eyes and tangled in his lashes. Staring at the floor in front of him, changing from carpet to vinyl, seeing his foot half-covering each perfectly, he pondered the right answer.

There was a clack from the CD case bumping against the bedroom door as it closed.

* * *

Barreling down-mountain on a two-lane wasn't the safest thing to be doing at night. With speakers thumping and a full tank of gas--and a broken speedometer, Malik didn't really care. Time was fickle and so was death, so to Hell with it all for him. Dangers of on-coming coal trucks and twists bending over disastrous hills didn't matter. He kept easing his sneakered foot on the gas pedal, one hand on the wheel. His free hand brushed away the hair being blown into his face. He rubbed his fingers together in an attempt to remove the sweat beaded on them from touching his forehead. Speeding around S-curbs with no headlights in the dark didn't matter. Danger didn't matter. Death didn't matter. Time barely did.

He pressed his foot farther toward the floor.

All that mattered was speed.

_  
You've got this new head filled up with smoke.  
I've got my veins all tangled close to the jukebox bars you frequent:  
the safest place to hide.  
A long night spent with your most obvious weakness.  
You start shaking at the thought that you are everything I want,  
_'_cause you are everything I'm not.  
And we lay. We lay together, just not too close. Too close!  
(How close is close enough?)_


	4. Lost in America

Note: This is the chapter that's your insight into Bakura's general way of life in the fic. You also get introduced to hyper!Seto.

7/23/08  
Chapter Three  
Lost In America

Outside a cafe on a main street downtown, rain fell in light sheets and gathered in puddles created from the earlier downpour. As one of the only cars on the street hydroplaned by the eatery's large front window pane, a man sitting at a booth inside, next to the window, watched the droplets roll their way down the window and back into the street. His right ring finger twitched next to his chest and his left elbow forced it's way closer to his body. As he wrapped the hand with the offending finger around his side, he propped his face up with the other.

The teenage waitress came and silently refilled his glass of orange juice. He ignored her searing glances and stared at a large lunar moth floating its way towards the streetlight standing opposite him outside. He mentally tacked a sticky-note to the back of his eyelids to write an angry blog later in the week about how all the lights around here were so bright he couldn't see sky. He reached down for his glass and took a few drinks, still watching the moth circling around the lamp. At the same time that his cup made a soft noise of reconnection with the table, the waitress was back.

"Excuse me, sir, but here's your bill--if you wouldn't like anything else?" A negative. "Okay, then. And, um, your phone's been coming on every few minutes for a while now, sir..."

He looked down, surprised, at his purple Razr, laying forgotten where hid put it next to the saltshaker. While he raised his hips so he could dif in the pockets of his jeans for the money, he saw w the screen to the cellular indeed light up. He picked it up and answered "whut?" as he counted out change and waited for the girl to stop staring at the waistline of his pants.

"_Hey, Kurda, we have to stay at Hiro's tonight. I'm apparently banned from the house for 'Kuba's party_."

"Yeah, sure thing. I probably would've wound up there, anyway; it's closer right now."

He ran a hand through his mostly-black hair so that the white tips of the bangs clinging to his mouth would leave him be. The scrapping sound of the coins against the table struck the girl from her stupor as he pushed them towards her. She shook her head slightly and slid the change into her hand and picked up the bills he'd also given her.

"_Do me a favor._"

"Yeah? What's that?"

"_I know, this time of night, you're probably out eating right now. You got money left on you?_"

"..." His eyebrow twitched, and, maybe, he thought, his blood was getting a little bit hot...

"_...Buy me some fucking Boston Baked Beans._"

"Ah, _shit_." He spat vehemently. Now full, he pulled on the hood of his tanktop as he got closer to the rain-flecked door. "You're an _idiot._"

"No,_ dipshit, I just get cravings. Now buy me some fucking three-Bs._"

"Ugh. Fine, whatever, you fucking weirdo." He pushed his dyed-red eartails away from his face and pulled on a pair of black fingerless gloves. "I'll be there in a while. Get the shower and bed ready and fix me some fucking brownies."

He clicked his phone shut right as he stepped out from under the tarp over the diner's door. Glancing squint-eyed against the rain, he craned his neck to look, still walking, at the streetlight. With no sigh of his moth friend from earlier, he pulled his shirt's massive hood a bit farther over his head so as to shield the cigarette he pulled out to light from the rain. In the few seconds it'd taken to look for the moth and get a smoke, his phone hand started rumbling in his back pocket. He grunted, pulled it out, and held it close to his body to protect its non-water-friendly technology.

'_1 New Message_' glared back at him in blue LED light and the phone's keypad illuminated his face as he pressed _OK_.

_Msg 29/29_

_From: SETO ASS-BA_

_Thnx, 'Kurda!!_

_Call: SETO ASS-BA_

_02:47 a.m. 05/17/08_

He chuckled around the cancer stick in his mouth. "Dumbass bastard."

Through the rain droplets gathered in his eyelashes, he navigated his way down the sidewalk and around two corners to a twenty-four-hour convenience store. As he stumbled over the crumpled rubber mat covering the doors sensory grate, the cigarette was put out in a nearby tray. He squinted as soon as he entered the store and pulled out a pair of biker sunglasses from his shirt's pocket. The man made his way right down the wall isle, rounded the shelf left, and one-handedly pulled out a five as his other hand shot out and nabbed a bag.

Past the dark frames and lenses of his glasses, he saw the fairly young cashier woman peer impishly at him from under slanted, edgy bangs. He slid his wallet into his back pocket and plunked the bag on the counter. His nose twitched very slightly at the girl, toes curling inside his shoes at how short her uniform's khaki skirt was.

"Hello, sir. How are you?"

"Eh." A gunshot to his right and he turned to look at the slim, tanned teenage boy watching TV behind the counter. The boy flicked his head and his white-blond hair flew away from his mocha eyes.

"That'll be three-oh-eight, _sir_," the girl growled at him. One of his crimson eartails fell forward next to his face as he turned back to look at her. She stared at him with a sort of piercing glare and he realized maybe the blond prettyboy and the pretty blond girl were siblings. His nose twitched.

* * *

"Here's your fucking candy peanuts, you bastard." There was a series of clunks as heavy black boots were yanked off feet and hit the floor.

"Shower's ready, dipshit!" resonated from the kitchen while the blue-and-brown-haired man stuffed a handful of the food into his mouth.

"Right-o, fucktard," he mumbled around a yawn and began stripping off his clothes on his way up the stairs. Right when he began sliding down his dark jeans, the phone on the hall's table began to ring. He got his jeans while he yanked the cord out of the wall.

Stepping into the bathroom, he flicked on the light, pulled his black-dyed hair out of its ponytail, and brushed his teeth as he waited for the water to warm. From downstairs he heard a muffled beeping and an excited "popcorn!!" He spat into the sink, then twisted his hips quickly, causing the loose red boxers to slip down his legs. The black shower curtain closed behind him as he stepped in, and he immediately set to thoroughly soaking his shoulder-length tricolor hair. On the shelf in front of him, there was a bottle of 'strawberry smoothie'-scented shampoo. He grinned mischievously, the water pouring over his head and through his hair making its way to trace his lips and rest against his sharp molars. After wetting his hair a bit more, he stretched out a hand for the pink bottle.

"Bakura, don't you fucking use my shampoo again, either!!"

His smile grew wider as he pushed the button to stop the drain and he poured almost all the shampoo in the nearly-empty bottle into the growing water. He squeezed a handful onto his hair and slid into the filling tub, hearing the gruff "you're an idiot" carrying up from downstairs.

* * *

Later, after taking possibly one of the hugest bubble baths ever and using the remaining shampoo as shower gel, Bakura was locked in his room, avoiding the conniving, ADHD-style wrath of one Seto Kaiba. Throwing all random, obstructing things off the bed (hadn't he told them to get it ready _for_ him?) and into the floor, he occasionally burst into a low, spontaneous manic chuckles that he would stop as abruptly as they'd start. He picked up the discarded shampoo bottle and took one last whiff of it before throwing it across the room and into the trashcan.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he waded over to the closet and rummaged through piles of junk and who-knew-what to find one of his modified game consoles. Wrapping his fist around the bright cord, he stepped back and yanked hard, watching for all the bits and bobs that tumbled out of the doorway and onto his feet. Snatching up the box, he jumped over the huge pile of laundry behind him and to the TV on the desk beyond it. He plugged in the system and randomly smacked the power button, lightly stomping on a plastic gun's hilt with his foot. It flipped up into the air and he caught it one-handed as he adjusted his towel again, then flopped down, legs crossed, onto the bed.

When a menu screen appeared on the television, he glanced at the time in the top right corner --_almost three-thirty, haha_-- and used a controller button on the side of the gun's handle to select his game. The view changed and he chose a few more options, and then the TV faded black before popping up with the game's plot trailers. When an undead's sickly white, gory face flashed screaming into view, followed by the game title and tagline, he grinned and tightened his grip on the gun controller.

One of his feet reached out to tap the touch-lamp nearby, throwing the room into darkness accompanied by the glow of the TV. His character displayed on screen, a deformed and disgusting, moaning figure loping toward it. He held the gun even tighter and cocked it.

"Lock and load, bitches."

_(Lost in America, lost in America. Lost in America, lost.)  
(Lost in America, lost in America. Lost in America, lost.)  
I live at the 7-11. I'm trying to play this guitar.  
I'm learning a Stairway to Heaven, 'cause Heaven's where you are.  
I can't go to school 'cause I ain't got a gun.  
I can't get a gun 'cause I ain't got a job.. I ain't got a job 'cause I can't go to school.  
So, I'm looking for a girl with a job and car. And a house...with cable.  
Oh, don't you know where you are?  
Hey, man, you're lost in America._

Note: I love crazy, zombie-hating Bakura. :)


	5. Lose Control

10/27/08  
Chapter Four  
Lose Control

"You're too late. Honey, you give love a bad name..." The words went through the room in broken tune, drifting on the cracking voice of a tired someone. Under the blankets of his bed, Otogi filled his small airspace with labored breathing. He tried hard to sing his song but not be heard, lest he wake anyone in the house.

"Please, stop it, Oto! All you've done for the past two hours is sing hair metal choruses, damnit."

The black-and-green-haired boy popped his head out from under a brown comforter. Otogi squinted his eyes in the darkness to look past the doorframe, diagonally across the hall, and into another room. His eyes strained a bit, but finally landed on a lumpy figure. It wriggled, and he blinked at the strange sight of bright eyes staring at him, gleaming from a far-off light in the room. The shine was only slightly eerie as it mixed with the glowing patches on the blankets below it.

"Sorry, Yu." He cricked his toes and pulled his hands closer to his chest, gripping the comforter. His eyes shut. "I'll close the door, if you want."

Within the dark, he barely made out the shuffle of the fluffy-haired boy sitting up. He stared at the shine and glow of Yugi's eyes while the boy twisted oddly and scratched behind his ear.

"It's okay." Otogi opened his eyes. In the gleaming room, the shadow of Yugi flopped head-first off the end of the bed, crossed legs still resting on the mattress above. "Just--I dunno. I guess I'm so tired I'm cranky."

"Um..." Pulling at the green bangs in his face, he searched for the words to say; anything to make this conversation better, to drive it in another direction. There were a few things on the tip of his tongue, phrases that might make the other feel better about the reason for his sleepiness. "Well--..."

The older man kept staring at the sprawled form across the hall. He only tore his eyes away when Yugi's arms, laying haphazardly next to him, became overcast with long, striking lines of shadow. Otogi's fingers twitched spastically at the same time his eyes shot to search for that twinkle on the other's ashen face. There were no open eyes but his own, however, and those that were closed had lids so dark they resembled mere sockets.

Otogi quickly shoved his head back under his blanket and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Goodnight, Yug..."

* * *

_There was this horrible feeling, way down in the pit of his stomach. What did they call it? Dread? Guilt? Lust? Oh, well; he didn't think it mattered._

_But, but-- there were these hands with fingers digging into the hollows of his hipbones. Maybe they were bruising him? Perhaps pushing into nerves he didn't know were there, and it was sending that feeling to his stomach? Whatever it was, he was feeling rather queasy now, but he had a feeling that didn't matter, either._

"Shush. Stop twitchin' so much; it's not that bad. Just wait for it..."

_His lip quivered just as teeth dug into the junction of his neck. His eyelids forced themselves together, tight, while his hands dug at the pillow under his bound wrists. What was wrong with this? It was what he wanted--or, wasn't it? Oh, fuck, why did the ceiling suddenly begin to swim when he opened his eyes?!_

_His heart suddenly felt like it would rocket straight out of his chest. He felt his shoulder blades forcing into the springs below him because of rough hands shoving into his shoulders, pushing them against the mattress. The fabric around his wrists and forearms strained and burned his skin. He felt like they'd rub a hole through to the veins and tendons on his right arm. When he thought of that, the muscles in his biceps wavered._

"Hang on... Hold still."

* * *

He yelped and shot up-right--rather, he _tried_ to sit up. He started to panic when he found he couldn't, that hands still held down his shoulders.

"AHHHHHHHH!" the scream continued throughout the house as he began to thrash around on his bed, legs kicking frantically. His voice rose to a type of 'scared-shitless' octave. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"OTOGI. Calm. The fuck. DOWN." The black-haired boy immediately froze. After laying completely motionless, arms and legs in a jumble, his neck at an awkward angle, he cracked open one eye. Yugi made a mental note to tease the older man about this later, when he knew he'd be over it enough for himself to be able to laugh his ass off at the other's embarrassment. "That must've been _some_ goddamn dream, you fucker."

He felt strong, calloused hands relax on his collarbones until they cautiously slipped away. The ceiling suddenly became very interesting to stare at as his own body went lax. One of his arms and both legs dropped to the mattress and out of their panicked position. He slowly counted to ten in his head, then averted his eyes to look at Yugi's.

"Fuck, I think you managed to knee me in my fucking head..." the boy grumbled, rubbing a tender spot on the edge of the back of his skull. Otogi brought up a lose fist to rest on the knee of the guitarists mushroom-patterned pajamas.

"Sorry..."

"It's fine." Green eyes slid closed when the other started to scratch a bit at his forearms, then opened again when he heard it stop. "You just kinda started freaking the fuck out. I tried like Hell to shake your ass awake, but the more I did it, the more fucked-up you got."

"Thanks. For trying."

A faint, alarm-like buzzing suddenly filled the room. It didn't cause either of the occupants to jump in the slightest, but, as soon as he heard it, Otogi immediately pulled himself over Yugi's lap. He braced a hand on the bar of his bed and shoved an arm and half his face under it, digging through piles of he-didn't-even-want-to-know-what to find the clock. The more junk he shifted from towards the top of his bed, the louder the alarm got. Yugi's eyebrow twitched spastically and he moved his leg a little, causing the black-haired boy to drop a little more and do a type of head-stand while he rummaged.

A few seconds later, Otogi was reaching up and gripping the thigh of the pajamas, pulling himself up while he pushed with his other hand. He flopped back onto his bed and took the cord out of his mouth, licking his shoulder with a disgusted expression. Apparently that wasn't good enough, as he picked up his comforter and wiped his tongue with it. Yugi picked up the UFO-shaped clock and jabbed at a few buttons, successfully turning off the alarm and starting the radio. He bunched up, shoulders hunching and elbows jabbing into his sides, as a song blasted through the small speaker.

Otogi snickered before shutting up, receiving a death glare. He reached out and rolled the largest dial on the side, turning down the volume. He smiled when his eyes met burgundy ones behind a gold fringe of bangs.

"Oops."

"...Whatever." The guitarist stood up, pulling the clock's cord in one long, rough stroke so that he had enough lee-way to sit it on the nightstand beside his fellow bandmate's four-poster. "You're a strange guy, 'Ji-ji."

"Go to bed, _Spike_." The older grinned as he watched Yugi lazily wave a hand in the air, walking back across to his own room. The younger boy flopped back down onto his glow-in-the-dark, outer-space bed sheets and curled up. His grin slowly faded the longer he stared at the shining constellations and the small, lumpy figure obstructing some of them. Eventually, he felt his eyes began to cross when he started to zone out, and he blinked hard.

Before laying back down himself, he got up and walked across his plush, goldenrod-colored carpet to shut his door. His thumb met the button lock as soon as he heard the click of the door being completely shut. He crawled back under his thick comforter from the side of the bed, and stuck his head back out the top to glance at the time. He scratched his nose and guessed he wouldn't go in to work today. _'Four-thirty my _butt_...'_

His eyelids drifted shut as he rolled over and curled up a bit, brushing the hair back from his ears.  
"_Closing time. This room won't be open 'til your brothers or your sisters come. So, gather up your jackets, move it to the exits..."_

He tried opening his eyes now, but the more he listened, the more tired it seemed he became. Curling tighter in on himself, he felt his eyelids keep drifting closed, farther every time.

_"I hope you have found a friend. Closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end..."_

_  
Mary had a lamb, his eyes black as coal.  
If we play very quiet, my lamb, Mary never has to know.  
__Just once in my life, I think it'd be nice just lose control.  
Just once...  
If I cut you down to a thing I can use, I fear there'll be nothing good left of you.  
(Just to lose control, just once...)_

**  
Note:** Aww, that one kind of disappointed me...=(  
Didn't really turn out the way I wanted. I need to stop writing chapters, stopping, && then finishing them months later.  
(Thanks to the lovely Shan-Chan for her beta-ing. *love*)


End file.
